


i never met a pearl quite like you (who could shimmer and rot at the same time through)

by emptyskies



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Choking, Dubcon Kissing, Episode: s03e14 The Gentle Art of Making Enemies, Internal Conflict, M/M, Marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25190392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptyskies/pseuds/emptyskies
Summary: "C'mon, do it." Jerome taunted, his rasping tone barely above a whisper. "You'll see- how good it feels to let your insides out.""Shut up shut up shut up."
Relationships: Jerome Valeska/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 2
Kudos: 58





	i never met a pearl quite like you (who could shimmer and rot at the same time through)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is. Also it was originally going to be smut but it turned into...this. I don't really like how this turned out.
> 
> Constructive Criticism is welcome, just don't be a dick.
> 
> Title from Drain the Blood by The Distillers.

For a single, solemn moment they seemed frozen in time. Bruce was kneeling, hovering over him, chest heaving with each gasping breath he took; a thin, shattered pain in the palm of his hand from the filthy piece of mirror he held tightly, so tightly it would surely leave a scar for years to come and glinting with blood that fell upon Jerome's face and neck like tears mixing with his own. It was the only thing keeping his grip on reality, lest he drive his makeshift dagger deep into Jerome's torn and marred neck and forever alter their paths. He would-

He gritted his teeth and sucked in a shaky, uneven breath. Momentarily, he had considered it, the injustice of Jerome's actions- of what he had caused- and this violent, passionate rage filling him as it had never before. He'd felt like dying, suddenly, in the most pathetic fashion possible, like screaming until his lungs collapsed and his voice broke completely, he felt like- like

 _"C'mon,_ do it." Jerome taunted, his rasping tone barely above a whisper. "You'll see- how good it feels to let your insides out."

"Shut up shut up shut _up."_ Bruce fisted Jerome's gaudy suit jacket in his hands and hauled him up, smashing his bloody, ruined mouth onto his own. Jerome laughed against his lips, muffled, and hummed in pleasure as his fingers trailed up Bruce's pants leg and dug into his upper thigh. It went straight to his gut and he couldn't help but think yes, _yes._ Jerome's face was hanging on by a thread, sticky slick with blood and torn bits of flesh that stuck to Bruce's skin and he knew that he should be repulsed- he is, he is- but it only drove him to kiss Jerome harder, with a certain fumbling clumsiness that came with inexperience.

Distantly, his mind went back to a passing thought he'd had, one he hadn't had to strength to finish. He would be well and truly irredeemable, and he wondered grimly if that weren't already the case. Bruce pulled away from hid grotesque and disfigured mouth, tasting the tang of blood in his mouth but making no move to get rid of it. Relishing in it, relishing in the way Jerome's half lidded eyes trailed down his body and back again, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looked a little dazed, and though Bruce would scarcely say he knew anything about him he had never seen him look so- human, though he was surely anything but now. It stuck out in sharp contrast to the monstrosity he knew him to be, how his outward appearance now matched his vile insides, and his stomach churned uneasely.

Beneath him, Jerome struggled to take a single breath, his inhale rough and ragged, wheezing as his lips curled into a smirk and he said, "I knew you had it in ya, Brucie boy!"

Bile rose up in his throat like every bad thought, every bad dream he'd ever had and before he could force it back, force it all back down where it belonged he was on his hands and knees beside Jerome vomiting it all up; choking on past regrets and chunks of the hot dig he had been forcefed earlier in the night. His nose and throat burned from the stomach acid, red and inflamed, as he spat on the floor and coughed so harshly he was sure he might hack up a lung.

Jerome patted him on the back, mockingly sympathetic as he brushed back some of Bruce's hair with the tip of his gloved fingers and cooed in his ear. "C'mon darlin', let it all out. Just think-" 

"Don't you ever shut up?" Bruce said roughly, hands sliding to Jerome's neck of their own accord, and he imagined, imagined what it'd be like if he just _squeezed_ and squeezed until the life left Jerome's eyes once and for all. Back to whatever hell he might've come from in the first place. After all he'd done, after what he'd done to _Alfred_ he wasn't entirely sure Jerome didn't deserve it.

"Yesss," Jerome breathed, head flopping back like he just couldn't hold it up any longer and his face wobbling threateningly. He was sure if looked closely enough he could see red, see the muscle underneath as Jerome stared back up at him steadily. 

In the end there was no choice to make. Bruce let go stiffly, watching as his mottled skin slowly turned from red back to the corpse pale white it usually was. Jerome grinned, wide and sharklike. "Wrong move, sweetcheeks." Before Bruce knew it Jerome had pinned him on his back, a sharp piece of glass to his throat and his heart thumping like a frightened rabbit in his chest. 

He could feel it, a fine pain as blood welled up on his throat when Jerome got a little too enthusiastic and pressed the makeshift blade harder against the thin skin of his neck. "If you were going to kill me you'd have done it by now." Bruce said brazenly, wracking his brain for any way to get himself out of this situation relatively unharmed. He didn't understand how he'd ever let it get this far and he was sure later, after this was all over, he'd be cursing himself for forgetting what a danger Jerome could be and letting himself get into this kind of situation.

"Patience is a virtue, Bruce." Jerome chided, eyes shining with glee. "Stay still."

"What are you-" Bruce froze as Jerome yanked his sweater aside, just enough to reveal his soft stomach to Jerome's prying eyes, and pulled the shard of glass from his neck. In a flash Jerome had given him three slashes, so quickly he had no time to react properly. He cursed, bucking up, and froze like a deer in headlights, staring up at him with wide, horrified, knowledgeable eyes. Between them he could feel Jerome's hard on. His stomach was painful and sticking to Jerome's handiwork as his sweater slid back down, and he couldn't help but slide his hand to feel out that damage. It wasn't too deep, bleeding sluggishly as he followed the indention in his skin with his fingers and paused. He had marked Bruce with a J, claimed him as his own it seemed and he felt ill at the very thought. Jerome's smile broadened.

"Can't have anyone else laying claim to that succulent flesh of yours now can I? You're mine to kill and I won't have anyone- especially that big eared bastard Galavan- taking away my godgiven right to bleed you out."

"Galavan is dead." Bruce felt compelled to point out, though it was only an echo of what was really on his mind. Of all the ways he envisioned this going down as the night progressed, this wasn't one of them. Kissing the sociopath who was trying to kill him; being marked by Jerome as his own.

Jerome waved his hand dismissively, the other feeling out the edges of his nearly detached face with a grimace. "It's Gotham, kid, that ain't stopping anybody."

They both went silent, as if on cue, as Bruce slipped out from under Jerome and Jerome let him go. There were gunshots outside, screams and wails alike and they both knew that it was all over- at least for the time being. Bruce was relieved, his body aching and bruised and his mind not much better off. He stood on shaky legs, and turned his back on Jerome though he didn't entirely trust Jerome not to stab him in the back he was too mentally tired to give it anymore thought. 

He paused at the door and turned around, like there had been something he'd wanted to say, once. Then turned again and found the most wonderful sight to see. Alfred standing off in the distance, fighting off one of Jerome's goons with Detective Gordon not far off. He choked on a sob and set off to run, but didn't make it far. 

"Aw what the hell." Bruce heard behind him, before he was whisked around by a gloved hand on his wrist and dipped. Jerome's stiff, bloodless lips were on his, tongue searching for his own. He let go of Bruce, who only managed to just hold himself up, and cackled, his voice rough and cracking as he pointed off in the distance and sprinted off. Jim wasn't far behind him, in hot pursuit, gun drawn. 

When he turned back to Alfred, he had this awful disturbed expression on his face that made him feel like sinking into the ground, his face hot. It wasn't enough to stop him from crashing into Alfred's arms, tears welling up in his eyes and breaking his normally stoic facade. 

"You're alive."

**Author's Note:**

> This should be a link to my tumblr. Send me messages, send asks, hell send me requests, just whatever.  
> [fades-in-time](http://fades-in-time.tumblr.com/)


End file.
